The Familiar Taste of Poison
by Mah-BlackberrehSoS
Summary: Fate's a funny thing. It threads through our lives, dictating where we go and how we're bound. And for some, Fate is unkind, dragging them along to a destiny they would rather not live to see, and razor sharp to prevent escape. The dead don't always stay dead, and sometimes the puppeteer isn't who you think. Slave AU, yaoi


**AN: **Hey guys, here I am posting yet _another_ new story, but technically I'm writing this with three other people. My co-authors in this are **Niji Hitomi Kabra**, **Silver Eternity** and **SwordFire19 – **Also known over on tumblr as curvyrainbowboi, piratelorddoflamingo, and yonkoshanks respectively.

But yes, this is the Slave AU I mentioned before. It sort of… went wild in its planning stages and now has a rather disturbing plot added in.

**Warning:** Take heed guys, this story's gonna have some pretty nasty stuff. Lots of violence and gory descriptions, as well as dub-con (not actually sure though – I'm not a big fan of non-con but just… be warned, because with what he have planned anything can happen)

Also, something that I will say again – this story will mainly feature Doflamingo, Crocodile, Ace, and Shanks all in a rather… odd relationship.

**One**

"DON!" The voice rang through the halls of his mansion in the echoing boom of a thunder crack.

"DONQUIXOTE! WHERE ARE YOU!?" The sand man surged through the home on the strength of his powers, bellowing and knocking people out of his way. "GET THE HELL OUT HERE AND EXPLAIN YOURSELF!"

Doors opened in a path for him, leading him to where Don was sitting in his office with an almost empty glass of whiskey, glasses discarded to the side as he swirled the remainder and threw it back before he sighed and called for the other man. "In here, Croc."

"WHAT DID YOU DO!?" He raged, slamming his hand and hook onto the desk. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

He looked up wearily, his very expression wrung out. "I kept you alive."

"At what expense?" Crocodile was ragged, hair flying every which way, and eyes wild - but worse, his cheeks dipped sharply under the bones, hollows had appeared over his collar bones, and his skin was sallow, the signs of abuse clear in spite of his attempts to cover them with his finest clothes. "How dare you make that choice. _How dare you!_"

"Because I couldn't do any different," Doflamingo said simply, rising to pour himself more of the potent liquor. "They were going to make an example out of you. Drawn and quartered in front of my face by their little _trick_. Trust me; this wasn't my first option either."

The bottle _thunked_ on the desk. "But they wouldn't let me take your place."

"You should've let them!" The liquor in the glass evaporated. "Everything I've worked for, every chance I've taken, GONE! Because you interfered!"

"It was already gone once you were beaten AND BROUGHT IN!" The glass shattered into a thousand perfectly cut shards. "Everything you worked for, everything you DEFIED THEM TO BUILD, already lies in ruins, your officers scattered from here to the Red Line if not in Impel Down, and once you were dead it would still have been gone you fool!" Doflamingo's voice had risen to match the sand user's and his teeth were bared.

"You fool!" Croc growled, nose to nose with him, "All you can see is that I would have been dead. They sought to make an example! WHAT THEY WOULD HAVE MADE WAS A MARTYR!"

"AND WHY WOULD IT MATTER TO _ME_ IF YOU DIED A MARTYR WHEN I CANNOT STAND LIFE WITHOUT YOU?! YOU WOULD STILL BE DEAD!"

"Life like this isn't life. But fuck me for my ideals, it's not like you listened to me before anyway, so why should I expect you to listen to me now." The brunette took a deep breath, "Well, you have your wish. You won't have life without me." He dug into the pocket of his coat and tossed the envelope with the World Government seal onto the desk, and sneered, "My transfer papers. _Master._"

That struck Don speechless, and his brow furrowed inward as he picked the envelope up numbly.

"...What?" His voice was very small; almost not there at all.

"If I step one foot off this island...well it's all there in black and white with blessings from your _uncle._"

Don ripped open the envelope and started to read, and the more he took in, the deeper his scowl got, rage boiling in him until the windows behind him shattered in the same manner as the glass had. How dare he! How dare _ANY_ of those putrid pissbuckets that dared to call themselves his kin-!

Crocodile nodded as it became clear exactly what the terms of his release were, and when Don reached the end, he spoke, "So, where would you like your-"

**-Poison-**

"New slave, sir!" The servant cheered from the doorway. "Fresh from Impel Down. Report says he's dead to the outside world. One o' those types the Gov'ment wants to disappear."

He crossed the room and set the stack of papers on the Tenryuubito's desk, not standing close for more than a heartbeat so as to not actually breathe the same air as the great blond man.

The office was extravagant, gold and marble, mahogany desk, plush carpets, and a track from the door to the desk and back again that protected the plush surroundings from the ungainly footsteps of a non-noble. In fact everything about the place was trimmed and decked out so as to show just how far above everyone else he and his peers were.

Huffing at being forced to tolerate such common language, and his foul exhalations, the Tenryuubito kicked up the filter fans with one hand even as he pulled on gloves to take up the papers and examine them. His lip curled.

"This one is old, apparently been badly mauled..." His sneer deepened. "I see absolutely no reason to- oh. Well. That does change things. He's the son of that absolutely ludicrous creature that named himself 'king of pirates' some years ago. Well now. Can't let such a perfect chance to humiliate that bloodline pass before we stomp it out for good, now can we?"

The greasy, unpleasant smile distorted the triple-chinned, pimply, sallow face to a grotesque degree. "Get him into the fresh meat pens. We'll begin breaking him to saddle the moment he wakes."

"As you wish, Excellency!" The servant bowed his way out.

The first thing Roger's son became aware of when his senses returned was cold. Freezing, mind-numbing cold. The kind that meant not only was he covered in seastone, but that he was also underground somewhere. Then he felt pain, radiating through his chest and back, and all he could do was cough, spitting up clotted, black, rotten blood from his lungs and stomach. He groaned, hearing the chains rattle around his ankles and wrists when he tried to roll over.

Where was he? Impel Down again? No. There had been...the Old Man, and...Luffy? Then everything had gone black, fire, pain, burning from the inside out. There had to have been something done to him, something that admiral had held that was just long enough to get into his system and knock him out. What had happened after that? Where were Luffy and the others? Had they all be re-captured? Why did the air feel so thin all of a sudden?

There came a sound of clomping- boots. Heavy boots. The door opened soundlessly, and a big, burly guy that was obviously a guard appeared in the doorway, blocking most of the light, and gave a nasty smile.

"You're awake. Good."

"Where am I?" Ace groaned again, squinting at the slight glare around his captor.

"You're in the holy land of Mariejois. Lucky you." The guard stepped on something, and there was a rattle and Ace's hands were yanked on. "Welcome to the home of the Tenryuubito, slave boy."

_Sl-slave boy!? What?!_ He fell forward and it was then that he felt the weight of the collar around his neck. He cried out when the still healing flesh around his wounds pulled and oozed. Blood or pus, he couldn't tell, but it _burned_ in a way that he hadn't ever felt since eating his fruit. On his knees he looked up at the man he now recognized as a Celestial Dragons' Slavemaster, the man who would, if the stories rang true, break him to heel like a not-very-well-loved dog.

He knelt down, grabbed Ace by a fistful of hair and yanked, hair tearing out as he twisted his head up and back. "Your wounds are bad; they grant you mild reprieve. But don't think that means I'll be soft on you. It also provides the perfect opportunity for punishment. And I am not going to hesitate to punish you, boy. Whatever you were before you came here, now all you are is the newest, most ill-trained slave."

"I am a pirate!" The younger man spat - blood and mucus - into the other's eyes, and drove his clenched hands into the man's gut. He surged to his feet and made for the door.

Bad move. Not only did the man not go down or even flinch, he yanked Ace's head around and laid his bare hand on the raw, open sore that was the boy's chest wound, wiping his eyes clean with his other hand and watching impassively as the burned skin stuck to his fingers and ripped free in a shower of puss and blood.

"You _were_ a pirate, boy. Not anymore."

"AUGH!" Ace screamed, the spark that should have been flame felt empty and dead, almost more painful than the tearing.

He spasmed, falling back and skinning both elbows in an effort to catch himself. His breath came short, and caught on the gunk in his chest, doubling him over even after the Slavemaster had let go. He heaved and coughed, vomiting what felt like his organs onto the floor, and he glared, through stringy, matted hair that clung to his face. The flame he couldn't call still burned in his eyes, and murder was his promise.

The Slavemaster smiled. That was not the first time he had been so promised, and he was certain it would not be the last. He scrubbed the dead skin off on his pants idly.

"Insubordination and rebellion is not tolerated by the Masters here. And unlike lesser slave owners, these do not grant the mercy of death, only the pain of further punishments. Good behaviour is rewarded: a bath. Food. Even medical treatment, if I'm feeling generous."

"Then..." Ace coughed, "I guess you'll just have to... hope I don't... die... first." He grinned like a man with a death wish, still wheezing. "How happy... would your... _Masters_... be then?"

The man crouched, just so he could get his hand around Ace's throat and pressed up under his jaw with his thumb until he felt the muscle strain and knot beneath the boy's tongue. "Indifferent. They'd prefer you alive, but only for personal entertainment value. They really wouldn't care if you died." He flicked his eyes over the chest wound before rising again.

"Funny." The fire-starter choked as he was drawn back up to his feet, his hands unconsciously grabbing at the forearm that held him.

"At this point, it would easily be attributed to your rather grievous wounds," the man said flatly.

"And they would never know any different. I am very good at my job, boy."

Ace made a gurgling sound and had to stand on tiptoe to even get air into his much-abused lungs. His nails dug into the muscles of steel and he scrabbled for some sense of freedom.

"Never... sub... mit..." Ace hissed.

The man smiled. The most frightening thing about it was it wasn't even malicious- it looked genuine.

"We'll have to see how long that resolution lasts."

It was at that point that the darkness reclaimed Ace, and he sank back into unconsciousness, a smirk playing at his lips, just as it had the first time. His body went limp against the Slavemaster's grip, his hands falling to his sides.

He knew. Whatever the Slavemaster had said, he was under orders, so instead of finishing the boy off, he laid him back down on the floor, on his side, and away from the earlier puddles with a slight wrinkle of distaste. "They may not care if you die right now, Portgas...pray that you do."

He turned on his heel and left. While he would not neglect his duties, that didn't mean he had to agree with this. He didn't think this one was _going_ to break.

-**Poison**-

Roger's son knew he was dreaming. Well, it didn't _hurt_ when he was dreaming. He could see himself, the bruises, the wounds, lash marks and tears in the tender skin that kept trying to grow back over where Akainu had burned him. He saw the way his ribs stood out and his hair clung to his neck. And he saw that damned collar, loose enough that the Slavemaster could get his hand on the fire-starter's throat, but too big and tight to be comfortable in any way. His hands were torn open, skin and grime and blood and gunk caked under the nails and ground into his knuckles.

His shorts were little more than shredded cloth that clung to his hips, held up only through the knot he'd managed to tie just over his pelvis. They were all he had left of his previous life, and he'd be damned if he let these self-entitled bastards steal them from him. It was bad enough that the tattoo on his arm was obscured by dirt and bruises, and the one on his back had been burned away.

He would not let them take _everything_ from him. He'd force them to kill him first.

Today was not a good day.

"I have given you a very generous few months," the Tenryuubito snarled, staring down his nose at the taller man, "to break him, and you have not. I demand an explanation for this horrible work! Why are you my Slavemaster if you cannot get even one scrawny little beast under control?"

The Slavemaster forced his voice to remain even as he answered, outside the boy's isolation cell. "As I've said, some people have stronger will than others. His is the strongest I have encountered yet. Further, his wounds make him pass out much quicker and I have had less time to work on him as a result."

There was a sound of a slap.

"Excuses! I will just have to go down there and damn well show you how to do your fucking job myself, I can clearly see that," he snapped, striding up to the door.

The sound of flesh on flesh had the younger man jolting back to himself with a gasp and cough as the pain assaulted his senses all at once. He was on his stomach, as the lash marks across his lower back and legs made it impossible to lie in any other position. The upside was it meant clearing his lungs was easier. The downside was that every cough pulled on barely knitted flesh from his hairline to his knees. Ace wheezed and fought back the burning tears gathering in his eyes.

When the door opened, familiar boots clomped over to stand in front of him, but paused at a snarl from the door.

"Unbolt him and bring him here. I'm not setting foot in this filthy rat's nest. It doesn't deserve my presence."

The Slavemaster knelt down and pulled up Ace's head to work the bolt keeping his collar chained to the floor free and taking out his key ring for the lock. The left side of his face was reddened, sure to bruise, and his expression thunderous.

Bending over the boy, he picked a key that had nothing to do with holding Ace to the floor and a certain lock loosened up around already knobby wrists as he took the boy under the shoulders and hauled him to his feet.

At his core, Ace was a pirate. He'd been a pirate since the day he was born. Free. And smart. He clenched his hands, holding the cuffs closed, and cried out, louder than necessary, stumbling over his feet. He affected a dazed and sleepy appearance that became easier to fake once he was out in the sunlight, the glare blinding him after being cooped up for so long.

"Now go, you useless waste of space. I'll fix it myself."

The Slavemaster bowed his head and clipped his keys back onto his belt.

"No, take that odious collar off first. I'll choke him with my bare hands."

The Slavemaster fought a dark smile as he obediently raised the keys and unlocked it, letting it fall, and there was a dark glitter in his eyes as he looked Ace straight in his black ones. Then the moment was gone and he was kicked in the back of the knee with a barked demand to move faster.

_Faster? _Ace couldn't stop the grin as he crumpled and burst into flames, streaking at the Tenryuubito. The inferno raged through him and around the pompous man, burning away the clothes and trappings. He surged up behind the other, bringing the shackles from his wrists across that fat neck and soared higher than the bonfires of Skypeia, dangling the shrieking man-child by his throat. Deliberately allowing his power to explode out of control, the buildings near by caught fire and other's screaming was music to his ears. His grin was dark and the man in his grasp choked and coughed on the smoke.

"You'll never break me!" Ace growled, and with a snap closed the chain so that it broke the man's neck.

Dark spots were flickering at the edges of his vision and the fire-starter decided that if this was how he was going to die for real, then he was going to take as many of those fat fuckers as he could get his flames on with him. Dropping the corpse, he shot off towards another building, murder in his eyes.

He killed whoever he got his hands on without a second thought, but soon found himself surrounded by a group pf guards.

He fought, like a caged animal.

The first went down quickly. The second fell without issue, and the third was barely more. The fourth however, had some sort of gun. It didn't look like the normal flintlock pistols all of the others brandished at him ineffectually. This one had a chamber and a pump action hammer. The click of it cocking was covered by Ace's yell of rage, but his hands fell short of grabbing the older man.

His shoulder exploded in pain, solidified and burning with a chemical sensation. The edges of his vision blurred more and he stumbled forward, his fire extinguished. He was woozy and suddenly... very... very... tired...

He fell to the ground with a heavy thud, unconscious, his face contorted into a confused frown, and none of the relaxed freedom he'd displayed every other time since his arrival was visible. As for Ace himself, he knew nothing, swallowed in a blackness more complete than any other he'd ever experienced.

_Tbc._

**AN: **So, any thoughts? Next chapter will be added soon~


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